


complication with optimistic outcome

by littlemagician



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, The Ache in Your Legs Footy Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:24:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3152186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemagician/pseuds/littlemagician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both lean in at the same time, and it’s like two cars colliding on a dimly lit road, under the rain. They both lean in at the same time and their mouths brush, just a hint, just the corner of Iker’s lips against Sergio’s before any of them can stop it.</p><p>(or alternatively: Iker and Sergio accidentally kiss at Kiss Cam as a joke, Iker goes through an existencial crisis)</p>
            </blockquote>





	complication with optimistic outcome

This is _not_ how it happens:

They’re at a Real Madrid basketball game. They went together because it had been some time since they had spent quality time alone, just the two of them, best friends and co-captains bonding time. It had been some time indeed, so much that when Sergio suggested it Iker had agreed almost too quickly, it had made him laugh. He missed it, to be honest, just being with his best friend without any talk of football, any before or after match tension,  or anyone they would have to make sure were included in their inside jokes or the whole talking-without-really-talking thing.

(Except with Sara, because Sara was perfect and she knew everything; and she loved Sergio dearly. But it still wasn’t the same, especially when she and Sergio teamed up to talk about Iker’s bad habits and how grumpier he had been lately, or about his thinning hairline.)

So they’re at the game, Iker’s cheering loudly and cursing at everything that goes slightly wrong. That makes Sergio laugh, lean into his space and whispers in his ear that he ‘had nothing to captain today, Iker, will you enjoy yourself?’ But honestly, he is. He pretty much is enjoying himself, turning to Sergio to make silly comments – which are probably not as funny as Sergio makes them seem, with the way he throws his head back and laughs whole-heartedly. It warms Iker’s heart and fills him with something he can’t quite put his finger on; can’t quite name it, but it’s Sergio and he makes him feel younger, more care-free, complete.

However, remember, this is _not_ how it happens.

Someone probably thought it would be funny, it would be a nice joke because they were all Real Madrid, and the two captains of Real Madrid were at the game, and everyone knew their little tradition. It’s not like they ever hid that, didn’t ever need to; they kiss. Before every game, Sergio comes to him and brushes his mouth on Iker’s cheek. It’s for good luck, it’s for reassurance, it’s their ‘I got your back, no matter what’ promise. And that’s it.

It’s _not_ how it happens.

They’re not laughing at each other, too wrapped up in their own little world that for a second, they don’t even realize everyone around is looking at them, laughing and smiling and cheering. Sergio is the one who looks up first, and there. There they are, the whole Arena looking at them through a huge screen hung up in a strategic point, showing an awful border with pink and red hearts around the image of them, looking confused and amused, and big pink letters that say ‘KISS CAM’.

They do _not_ laugh it off, Sergio seeing Iker shrug through the screen instead of looking at him. He doesn’t turn around, and they burst out laughing again before Sergio leans in and kisses him on the cheek, the gentle brush of his mouth against Iker’s stubble, familiar and comforting, making everyone around them laugh along and cheer and the camera move on to another couple.

Iker wishes that was how it had happened, because it would have been obvious and familiar and easier.

-

That’s almost how it happens. If not—

If not for what really happens. They do laugh it off. Sergio sees Iker shrug through the screen instead of looking at him. He turns around already leaning in, but at the same time Iker does it, too. It’s stupid and he should’ve thought this through, should’ve let Sergio do his thing. He doesn’t even know why—

This _is_ how it happens, and it’s just a second, a meaningless accident: They both lean in at the same time, and it’s like two cars colliding on a dimly lit road, under the rain. They both lean in at the same time and their mouths brush, just a hint, just the corner of Iker’s lips against Sergio’s before any of them can stop it.

It’s an accident, so much that when it ends, quickly, they can hear whistles and gasps and laughter, but no one seems to dwell on it. Not even Sergio.

What happens is that they accidentally kiss, and Sergio’s eyes widen for a second before he laughs, along with the crowd, and Iker tries to copy his reaction, but—

That’s what it happens, and Iker doesn’t know why it bothers him so much.

-

Even his initial and silent worry doesn’t prove itself to be a catastrophe.

They _were_ on camera, not just a camera, but on Kiss stupid Cam. So it was to be expected that their accidental peck on the lips would be all over the papers and the internet. Iker could almost picture Marca’s headline saying ‘Real Madrid Captains Casillas and Ramos Come Out With Secret Gay Marriage’. It wasn’t too far of a guess to come from Marca.

But it’s just. Not.

Of course there are jokes, but even Marca just says ‘Captains’ replay of PDA tradition goes a little overboard’. They even mention other “accidental” kisses like Alonso and Gerrard’s one (nothing accidental about that, Iker thinks), or Giroud and Debuchy’s fake one, and there are jokes, but that’s the end of it in the press. No fuss.

Sara shows him the picture on her phone, saying Pilar texted it to her in the morning. Says she’s _‘going to make it Sergio’s caller ID picture, Iker, such a nice shot. Shows it’s real love, babe. You should be glad no one’s making up rumors you want to kill him’._ When he rolls his eyes, she kisses him on the cheek, laughs and leaves him being grumpy and paranoid on his own. She doesn’t need that kind of negativity in her life before going swimming with Martín.

Not even his teammates tease them endlessly about it. They do it still, Marcelo asks them if they were finally ready to admit they had been secretly married for years now; Isco asking if he could ‘get away with that if he kissed James publicly, you know, just friendly display of affection’, making the Colombian blush furiously. Cris, the little shit, just smirks at Iker like there’s something he knows that Iker doesn’t; like _there is_ something to know.

And Sergio. He laughs it off, doesn’t seem slightly affected by the whole thing.

So Iker plays his part. He slaps Isco on the head with his gloves, tells Marcelo to fuck off and ignores Cris because he’s the actual worst, ever.

If it didn’t mean anything to anyone, especially Sergio, why would it mean anything to him? It wasn’t even a real kiss. It wasn’t. He knows it’s pointless to keep thinking about it. It’s not even like there hadn’t been close calls before, not like they hadn’t ever kissed a little closer than planned and ignored it. It shouldn’t be bothering him, he knows—

-

He tries, he really does. He tries not to go all stiff and Sergio kisses him like he usually does before their next match. He tries not to step away from Sergio’s displays of affection and just accept them like he usually does, even indulge them, but he just—

-

“You know,” Cris starts when they’re the last ones at the dressing room, getting ready for training; voice even and calm, attention turned to lacing up his boots, “You should really talk to Sergio.”

“Yeah? Why is that?” Iker asks, pretending to be too concentrated on his gloves.

“Because… You’re not being yourselves lately,” He pauses, but before Iker can protest that they’re just fine, Cris, no need to worry; he continues, “Well, Sergio was, but you started to get all weird and he’s starting to think he’s done _something_ to make you mad at him.”

The way Cris says _something_ forms a knot on Iker’s stomach, makes him dread the idea of Sergio thinking it was his fault Iker is paranoid and can’t take a joke as a joke; can’t let go of a stupid accident.

“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” Iker says defensively, too quick, “Everything is fine.”

“Is it, really?” Cris sighs, and Iker hates it, hates when he’s all genuine concern and caring about his friends, because in this situation little shit Cris would be much easier to deal with. “Tell him so, then. Just make sure it’s true before you do so.”

He pats Iker on the back and says nothing more. Neither does Iker.

-

He doesn’t talk to Sergio, because he thinks talking about it could only make everything worse. Why would he tell Sergio he was obsessing over something he had clearly already forgotten about; something that meant nothing to him? It wasn’t Sergio’s problem, it was Iker’s, and he was just going to let himself get over it alone.

He’s not even sure why the whole thing keeps popping up in his mind at random times. He’s not bothered that it was an accidental-barely-there kiss with a man, that’s not it. Hell, it’s Sergio, if it’s not that, it should be even more familiar to him because it’s Sergio. If he were ever to kiss another man, it would be Sergio. How could he had been comfortable with anyone else? Of course if would be him. Sergio, with his full lips, deep shade of pink from all the biting he did all the time, sometimes glistening a little after the swept his tongue over it—

Iker needed to get a fucking grip.

-

He doesn’t get over it, and it drives him insane at the same time it drives Sergio away.

He stops coming to Iker, because Iker is an idiot that can’t help but flinch at Sergio’s attempts to go back to normal. He stops bugging him just for the sake of it, stops greeting him good morning with a huge smile on his face, opening his arms for Iker to step in and wrap his own around Sergio’s waist, the defender holding him tight on purpose just to make him half-heartedly complain. He stops jumping on Iker’s back, stops holding his hand for no apparent reason during training, and the whole thing is so high school it makes Iker sick with guilt and longing—

A small bit of relief washes over him when Sergio still comes to him before their matches, even if their talk becomes more and more professional and less warm and friendly and fond. Still, he taps Iker on the shoulder and leaves a feather-light kiss on his cheek; and Iker wants to let his relief show through him, wants to lean over and kiss his cheek too, but Sergio pulls always quicker than Iker can act on it.

He misses Sergio so much it physically hurts, and it’s all his goddamn fault.

-

“Man, what’s going on between you and Sergio? Trouble in paradise?” Marcelo grabs him by the arm and pulls him into a corner of their lounging room at the Valdebebas.

“It’s—”

“Oh no, Ikercio. Don’t even pretend it’s nothing” Marcelo cuts him off, waving his hand in frustration, “Everyone has noticed you have barely looked at each other the past week, and haven’t been acting like yourselves for the past two, so. What. Is going on?”

Iker sighs, rubs his eyes with the heel of his hands.

“Is this about the… Kiss thing?” Iker flinches, but doesn’t answer anything, his tongue suddenly tasting bitter in his mouth. “Oh shit, it is, isn’t it? I knew it!”

“Celo, look, it’s not—”

“No, you listen to me now, bossman,” Marcelo points a finger at him, and Iker takes a second to be proud and think that Marcelo’s going to be a great Captain. “Sergio’s not—He dropped the matter, okay? It doesn’t have to mean anything, you don’t need to worry about that, he’s—”

“I _know_ it didn’t mean anything to him, okay? I know that, do you think I don’t—“ Iker raises his voice without thinking, sound too defensive too quickly, and Marcelo picks up on that.

“Oh. Shit.”

“What?!”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? It meant something to you! Didn’t it? Your problem isn’t what happened. Jesus, it’s obvious, how didn’t I notice—How didn’t he notice?”

Iker keeps silent through Marcelo’s whole epiphany, too exhausted to deny anything. And this is Marcelo, anyway, he reads people like it is his goddamn business.

“Shit, Capí. You need to sort this out with Sergio, I mean it, he’s been…”

“He’s been what, Celo?” Iker is almost ashamed of how desperate he sounds, how tired and confused and hurt he is.

The Brazilian sighs heavily, “Look, not my place to tell you anything. But hear me out, sí Capí? You need to talk to him, fix this. For you and for the team. We all lose balance when Dad and Dad and fighting.”

Marcelo pats him on the shoulder, but it does nothing for Iker’s comfort.

-

The TV is on but he pays no mind to it, eyes looking right through the device. He needs to fix this, as Marcelo pointed out. He just needs to figure out how.

Sara walks in with Martín in her arms, snapping him out of his trance. Martín looks tired and ready to fall asleep after daycare, and Sara passes him to Iker’s arms, movements familiar and easy between parents. He sets him on his chest, and he’s instantly making himself comfortable against Iker’s chest, not sleeping yet but not fussing either, just playing with Iker’s fingers.

“You’ve been so stressed lately,” Sara says quietly, sitting by his side.

“I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just. You should talk to him. Sergio, I mean. I know things aren’t well.” She runs her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp gently. Iker leans into her touch, letting himself relax, surrounded by warmth and family.

“I don’t even know how.” He confessed, because it’s Sara, and she knows everything.

“You know I love you, don’t you? I love Sergio too, in my own way. Things between you two, they are… Between you two. You need to figure this out. I’ll support whatever decision you make. I mean it.” She kisses him gently on the lips and then Martín’s forehead, leaving Iker wondering how the hell did he get this lucky.

He falls asleep with Martín’s warm weight against his chest.

-

They have the next day off, so Iker drives to Sergio’s without even calling first. It’s stupid, he might not even be there, but Iker needs to do something before he manages to complete fuck up his longest and most important friendship like this.

He pretends his hands aren’t shaking slightly when he knocks on Sergio’s door. He pretends his hands aren’t still shaking when Sergio answers it, shirtless and face still holding traces of sleepiness and something else. His expression is unreadable when he sees it’s Iker.

“Hi, Sese,”

A moment, and then.

“What are you doing here?”

“Will you let me in, first?” Iker asks, praying in his mind that at least Sergio will give him a chance. Not that he deserves, though. Sergio waits for another long moment before stepping aside, nodding for Iker to come in.

“Do you… Want anything? Water, coffe?” Sergio has his back to him when he says. It’s not like he plays host to Iker, ever. They have been at each other’s house more times than they can count; they walk around it like it’s their own.

“No—Sese, would you at least look at me?” Iker pleads. It takes a moment for Sergio to respond, but when he does, Iker wishes to run to him almost immediately. There’s hurt and defeat in his eyes and Iker hates it, because Sergio was never supposed to look at him like that. He was never supposed to put that look in his eyes.

“Fuck, Sese. Don’t do that. Don’t do this thing, don’t hold yourself back because you’re afraid I’m going to be an asshole and shut you down.”

Sergio laughs bitterly, “Well, won’t you? It’s all you’ve done the past two weeks and I don’t even know what I did wrong! Actually, I do, but—”

“You’ve done nothing wrong!” Iker almost screaming, restraining himself from dragging Sergio by the shoulders and _show_ him. “It’s all my fault. Mine. You don’t have to—It’s my fault. I know the kiss didn’t mean anything to you, it can’t even be considered a proper kiss, you’re not obligated to—“

“Oh my god, is that what you think? That it didn’t mean anything to me? The only reason I—”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I was such a horrible friend. I never meant to be, I just couldn’t get it out of my head—”

“Iker, Jesus, will you listen to me for five fucking seconds? You don’t have to worry about me jumping you, for fuck’s sake! I can control—”

They talking over each other, yelling almost, and Iker sees it’s pointless, so fucking pointless. He steps forward and holds Sergio’s face between his hands, leaning into his personal space.

“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you again. Kissing you for real.” He whispers, trying a better approach than just yelling his feelings at Sergio, who would just do it louder. He sounds as desperate as he is and he just hopes Sergio understands.

“What? Iker…” For Iker’s credit, Sergio’s whole face shows confusion, but he calms down from the shock.

“It has literally been driving me crazy, Nene. So if you don’t want this, tell me and I’ll leave and we’ll go back to normal and never talk of this again.”

Sergio looks at him like he’s seen a ghost, and Iker gets no answer. Not for a few seconds, not for a handful of seconds. He thinks, this is it, this is where he’s fucked up, this is where he’s ready to run and never talk about this again, ever. When Sergio takes Iker’s hands off of his face, Iker is ready to bolt.

He’s not ready for Sergio pushing him back and pinning them above his head against the door, pressing Iker’s body along, too. He’s not ready for Sergio flushed against him, kissing and lapping his tongue on Iker’s bottom lip, and fuck. Things escalate quickly. Iker opens his mouth in no time, letting his tongue lick into Sergio’s mouth as me manages to free a hand from Sergio’s grasp, entangle it on Sergio’s hair to bring him further close, down his shoulders and bare chest. He kisses and lets himself be kissed, and fuck, this is Sergio. This is Sergio, his best friend, his life partner, his co-captain. This is Sergio, and he doesn’t even want to think about how much time he’s wasted pushing down the feeling that he wanted this, wants this, so much that when Sergio pushes a leg between his thighs he actually moans into his mouth.

This is Sergio, and when they part for air, just their lips, just enough to feel each other breath, all Iker can manage to say is “God, Nene. You’re perfect, you’re—I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

“Shut up. Shut up, Iker, I swear to God, just let me have this.”

Iker smiles, but Sergio doesn’t care. He frees Iker’s hand and Iker immediately holds him by the waist. Sergio just kisses him again, hard and obscene and all Sergio, hands fisted in his hair.

This is how it happens, and maybe if it weren’t, things wouldn’t have turned out as well as they did.

He lets himself get lost in Sergio’s lips and skin and warmth; he kisses him back.

**Author's Note:**

> here i am started from the bottom now i'm still at the bottom taking yalls prompts and probably not filling them the way i should or the way u want but you know what i'm a criminal i commit crimes on the internet 
> 
> for the prompt at the footy ficathon: sergio/iker, they are subjects of a kiss cam


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